


Blood ties

by minmonster



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minmonster/pseuds/minmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the controversial 74th Hunger Games, the Capitol has twelve Districts to scare into submission, and a captive audience to enchant. The Quarter Quell presents an opportunity for both. AU where Katniss didn't survive the Games</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On trigger warnings: I will only warn for things that are not present in the books, or things that are described more graphically than they are in the books.

“Ladies and gentlemen!”  
In every home in the country, the president’s voice boomed from the televisions.  
“I am pleased to announce the seventy-fifth Hunger Games, and the third Quarter Quell! Like always, the Quarter Quell will be the same excitement you love, but with a new twist. This year, the rules for eligibility will be different.”  
In District 12, Gale sighed. Rory fidgeted. Gale put a hand on his shoulder, stilling him temporarily.  
He wanted to say that they would all be OK, but Rory was old enough to recognize such a blatant lie. And ‘at least you’re the only one up for slaughter this year!’ just didn’t sound all that comforting.  
“To remind the districts that no love or loyalty can ever be higher than the love of your nation, this year’s Hunger Games will be fought between family members.”  
In District 1, Jewel stops her hand full of berries before it reaches her mouth.  
“Instead of one boy and one girl, each district will send one brood of children of any number. Only one of them must be eligible for the Games for the whole group to have their names entered.”  
In District 3, Buzz clutched his three-year-old sister’s hand, and cursed that he hadn’t turned twelve a few months later.  
“All groups of siblings will have an equal chance of being chosen, regardless of tesserae, number, or age.”  
In District 11, Sickle laughed darkly as she considered all the tesserae she had taken over the years. This year, she would be able to take out as many as she wanted. For now, the thought that she could feed her family for a whole year without fearing for her life any more than usual allowed her to push away the thoughts of her five younger siblings being dragged into the arena.  
“Another rule change is that no volunteers will be permitted this year.”  
In District 2, Gaius threw his glass cup into a wall.  
“As always, only one can survive. As always, may the odds be ever in your favor.”  
In District 12, the only one who could survive held a round golden pin in his hand.

Peeta Mellark sat with his folded hands on his lap. His family members, sans the mother who had already left the room, tried discreetly to glance his way.  
The TV was still switched on. Here in the Victor’s Village they had electricity even after the mandatory viewing.  
A woman in a golden dress took the stage. Her hair was burning. It had to have been the same stuff Cinna and Portia had made when-  
“Does anyone need something from the market? I could go there, if…”  
His father shook his head.  
“The stores are all closed.”  
The woman looked dazed. She was joined on the stage by a man in an orange jumpsuit. Unlike the woman, he had a wide smile on his face and was waving to the audience.  
“Julius Grass and Antonia Brook!” announced a bombastic voice.  
“Oh, Antonia!” said the man, clutching his chest dramatically. “What an announcement!”  
Antonia raised her microphone to her lips before lowering it again. Julius’ smile dropped slightly. He looked over to the edge of the stage and seemed to find it again.  
“Well, I don’t know about you,” he said, addressing the audience this time, “but I can’t remember ever being this excited for the Hunger Games before!”  
The audience cheered. The woman closed her eyes. Peeta clenched his fists.  
“The only complaint I have is that we have to wait for months!”  
He held the back of his hand to his forehead. “This is torture!”  
The audience agreed loudly.  
“I have a sister.”  
The voice was soft, but cut right through the noise, magnified by her microphone.  
Peeta leaned forward, towards the television. This was unplanned, he could tell.  
“She is thirteen years old, and if I were living in the districts…”  
The audience started to boo. Of course they did, Peeta thought. Thinking about how it could be them in that arena would ruin the fun.  
The woman on the stage kept her eyes closed, not wanting to look her rapidly approaching doom in the eyes.  
“I have a sister, and- NO I WILL NOT SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Antonia pulled out the bud in her ear. Someone dressed all in black rushed up on the stage. Peeta didn’t have time to see what happened before the Capitol seal appeared on the screen, followed by a commercial break.  
Peeta rubbed his forehead. There’d be one more avox in the Capitol when the night was over.  
He stayed behind on the sofa, even as the others left for bed one by one.  
He flipped through the channels, looking for something to watch while waiting for sleep to take him. He curled up on the floor with a blanket, made too uncomfortable by the overly soft cushions on the sofa.  
He settled on a cheesy-looking movie featuring the same orange-haired man who seemed to be in everything on TV. This time, he played a wealthy Capitol citizen who falls in love with a tribute he sees on the screen.  
The last Peeta saw before falling asleep was the man wailing as he sold his last house to pay for her donations.  
BOOM.  
Peeta sat up, his heart racing. His legs tangled in his blanket as he tried to run away from the killer in his dreams. For one moment, he thought the cannon had been announcing his own death, but as his head cleared from the foggy sleep he realized the absurdity of that. He was still alive. Of course. Unfortunately.  
Instead, the cannon had come from the TV. He turned over on his back just in time to see the bullet hit Antonia Brook in the back of the head.  
Huh. Apparently the Capitol was cracking down harder on treason. Antonia’s blood was starting to dry as he rolled over and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

“Gale?”  
He didn’t know what he thought he was going to find, but the boy from the Seam wasn’t it. Of course, there weren’t a lot of normal explanations for being woken up by a knock on the door at two in the morning.  
“What are you doing here?”  
“I need your help”, he said, his voice urgent. “I need you to hide my sister.”  
“Gale…” He bit his lip.  
“NO!” The other boy grabbed his arm with surprising force. “Don’t say no, please! She’s only four, please…”  
The desperation in his face was impossible to ignore, but if this went wrong… Peeta wouldn’t just be risking his own life. His family, and maybe even some random people from town, would be killed as punishment.  
“They would find her”, Peeta said. “They would find her and execute us.”  
Gale shook his head.  
“No, they won’t. They wouldn’t even know to look. I have a plan.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reaping

Jewel let the last of her golden locks fall from the hot iron. Perfect. She smiled at the mirror, admiring the job she had done. Flawless skin that glittered slightly when the light moved over it. Red lips in a confident smirk. Blue eyes surrounded by long, black lashes that curved up towards plucked eyebrows.  
Her purple heels made her already impressive height look even better. The sleeveless yellow dress hugged her figure, showing off her curves and, more importantly, her muscled arms and legs. Purple gloves covered her calloused hands.  
She adjusted the thick band at her waist and waited.

“Take the bread!” Sickle called to her youngest brother. “You haven’t had breakfast, and you’ll be hungry!”  
Mill whined. In his hand, he clutched a small piece of cloth. Sickle thought about telling him to leave it behind, but it seemed to make him less anxious. And god knows that was needed. The whole morning had been filled with crying children and increasingly distressed older siblings.  
She wished their parents had been there. They’d know what to say to calm their children. Sickle knew why they had left so early in the morning, even if she wished they hadn’t.  
They both had parents to help get to the justice building. They’d meet up afterwards, and Sickle knew that her grandparents needed the help more than she did.  
And she knew that the grief they felt over their eldest son would be more painful than usual on this day in particular. She couldn’t blame them for wanting to be alone.  
Still… She could really have used a hug right about now.  
It would be Mill’s first reaping, three years too soon. Sickle couldn’t take the tears out of his eyes, or the fear out of his heart, so she focused on straightening out any imperfections in his clothing. She brushed the dust off his black pants.  
“Tuck your shirt in”, she said and adjusted his hat. “Ready? The others are waiting outside.”  
Their other siblings had all sat down against their house wall. Sickle was about to complain about the filth that would cover their clothes, but changed her mind. None of them had gotten much sleep last night, and the sun was shining hotly down on them. They could use all the rest they could get before the nerve-wracking hours ahead.  
“Come on.”  
They all lined up in a row like chickens and followed her to the square. Even Daisy, who was only two years younger than her, followed like she was still a little girl. As she led them away from the house, Sickle tried to pretend as hard as she could that she wasn’t just a little girl, too.

The harbor looked like it always did on Reaping day. The smell of fear almost overpowered the scent of the sea. Keera was walking so close to her sister that their shoulders almost touched. She glanced over at Caitlin, checking to see whether her twin looked as frightened as she felt. She didn’t. Caitlin’s face was a perfect mask of indifference. Despite their features being so similar, Keera couldn’t feel any of the calm Caitlin was showing.  
They signed in and went to take their places in front of the stage. It worked differently this year. As usual, they were lined up according to age. This year, though, all potential tributes from the same families stood together in the line for the youngest of the group.  
Keera and Caitlin found their spots next to their fellow seventeen-year-olds.

Jewel stood at the very front, alone, like a beacon of fortitude among the weeping, hysterical masses around her. She smiled at the escort taking his place on the stage. She recognized him from a previous game, but not from District 1. He had been assigned to 3 the year before, and must be overjoyed to have received such a good position this year.  
His dark brown eyes seemed to pause when they reached her, and she knew that he was admiring her. She looked better than usual, and that was saying something.  
She fluttered shyly with her eyelashes, directing her gaze to the cobblestones under her feet. One side of her mouth was pulled up in a charming half-smile that she knew made the boys go wild. When she looked back up, he was smiling. His breathing was shallow. It wasn’t hard to deduce that her tricks had worked.  
The ceremony was as boring as usual. Mayor Gold, a good friend of her father’s, kept his speech as short and concise as always. Jewel liked him; he kept the period leading up to the reaping short so she never had to worry for too long.  
And this year, she was more nervous than ever. The risk of not being chosen seemed overwhelming. In other years, she had always had the next reaping incase the present one failed, but she was eighteen now. There would be no second chances. And she refused to be anything less than a victor. No, if she wasn’t chosen this time, she’d just have to kill herself. There was no way she’d grow old and marry a goldsmith or something equally pathetic. Not her, who had grown up in the Victor’s Village with both of her parents among the honored ranks of District 1’s finest. No, if this failed she would leave a romantically tragic corpse for the rest of the district to cry over.  
The thought comforted her a bit. She pictured her classmates sobbing openly in the hallway. Her face would be in every newspaper, and she would always be remembered as that horribly beautiful girl who refused to be a lowly worker bee.  
She was so wrapped up in her fantasy that she didn’t have time to panic as the escort picked a name from the glass ball.

The poached salmon she had eaten for breakfast threatened to make a re-appearance, and as delicious as it was, Keera didn’t want to see it all over her black slippers.  
Caitlin must have seen Keera’s face turn slightly green, because she gently took her hand.  
“Calm down, Keery”, she said softly. “There are so many others here; at least two hundred notes are in that ball.”  
As the escort strutted to the glass ball, Keera’s hand shook so violently she thought she might tear Caitlin’s arm from its socket.  
“Breathe, Keery. Breathe.” She held on to her sister tightly.  
The escort dramatically pulled out a slip of paper, and made her way back to the middle of the podium.  
“Keera and Caitlin Meath.”  
The crowd cheered along with the sea gulls.  
Keera closed her eyes, and felt Caitlin’s hand slip out of her grasp.

The first thing Gale felt wasn’t fear. It wasn’t sorrow, and it wasn’t anxiety.  
He felt relief that he had made the right decision. Posy wouldn’t be going into the arena; she’d be safe with Peeta and Haymitch. He didn’t let himself think about the rest.

Sickle gathered her siblings around her like a sheaf of grain. They stood huddled together on the stage, trapped under the watchful eyes of the peacekeepers like mice before a cat. Running would be futile, and would only resist in humiliation as well as the death they had already been promised.  
Sickle’s heart was beating hard in her chest. She curled her fingers around Olive’s shoulder, holding on for dear life, as if she expected a hurricane to blow them all away.  
“Let’s have a round of applause for our team of tributes!” said the silver-skinned man next to them on the stage. He started clapping, as if he thought the people didn’t know how to do it.  
A peacekeeper fired his gun into the air. Just a warning shot, but it was enough. The silence was broken by a smattering of polite applause.  
She searched the crowd for the rest of her family, without luck. They had always been shorter than most, and what had always been the subject of good-natured jokes amongst themselves now seemed like the worst misfortune. They had to be there, somewhere; if only she could find them, if only she could meet their eyes, if only they could…  
She didn’t have time to search further. A small army of peacekeepers herded them into the justice building behind them.

Jewel sank down into a hard, throne-like chair. Her manicured fingers traced the gilded lines across the armrest. The cheers of the crowd were still ringing in her ears. Her stomach was fluttering with the adoration and love that had surged towards her on that stage.  
It felt just like she had always known it would. The cameras were all on her, along with the envious eyes of the entire nation.  
She was glad that she had spent that extra money on a new dress. Her other dress was an almost perfect replica of the interview dress District 12 had worn last game. It was the perfect thing to wear to a Hunger Games-themed ball at the time, but after the girl’s death it had fallen a bit out of fashion. Nobody wanted to look like a loser, and a new tribute in a dead tribute’s dress would have been unspeakably crass.  
Her father strode in alongside her mother. She rose from her seat to welcome them with a short hug.  
She beamed at them as they told her all about how proud they were, how good she had looked, how well she had carried herself.  
With great seriousness, her mother handed her the diamond necklace that she herself had worn in the arena. Jewel hung it around her neck, and promised to bring it back.  
They didn’t need to give her any tips on what was to come. She knew everything they had to teach her, and it was with confidence that she squeezed their hands one last time before boarding her train.

They never came. Nobody came.  
Sickle had sat for a full hour, waiting in that dingy old office with her weeping siblings. She had told them that their parents, grandparents, friends and cousins would all come, but they didn’t. And now they never would.  
Surrounded by cameras, peacekeepers, their escort, and their mentors, all fussing as they were forced into the train, she had never felt so alone.

The relief didn’t last for long. Gale knocked over a table the first thing he did when he entered the Justice Building. He screamed at the top of his lungs until a peacekeeper grabbed him by the arm. When he tried to bite the hand clamped over his mouth, the uniformed man injected something into his belly. He kept struggling until all the strength in his body had melted away like snow in a hot pan. His knees hit the ground, hard, as he failed to hold himself up.   
His eyes fell shut, though he could still hear.  
The peacekeeper stuffed him roughly into a chair, letting his head loll limply over the plush back.  
He was dimly aware of his mother entering the room. The peacekeeper explained in a gruff voice why her son was knocked out when he was supposed to be saying his last goodbyes. She threatened to report him to his supervisors, but the other children hushed her.  
After that, they either sat in silence, or Gale just didn’t hear what was being said.  
The next thing he knew, he was being carried into a shiny metal box.


	3. Chapter 3

Finnick Odair had mentored the male tribute of district 4 every year since his own victory. There wasn’t one this year. Two twin girls were the unhappy pair, but Finnick had volunteered anyway.   
Julia could never understand how he could keep caring. She herself had stopped bothering with more than entertaining the audience after watching her first few tributes slaughtered. But not Finnick. As she was having a late-night cup of coffee, he was watching the reaping, taking notes for every tribute. She set down her cup next to him, and leaned over his shoulder.   
“Jewel, aged eighteen, district one,” she read aloud. He ignored her. His pen made a chart of the districts. Only one from district one, but three from two. Three from twelve, and an incredible six tributes from eleven.   
“Seems like that girl from one will be trouble. The commenters seem to like her, and the sponsors will follow suit.”  
He put a large X next to the names of several tributes, and circled the others. His eyes flitted between the screen and the paper as he rewound and skipped ahead between the various districts. He didn’t even look at her when her hand started stroking his shoulder. Annoyed, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked it backwards, forcing him to look at her.   
“If you want your tributes to have even the slightest hint of a chance, you will pay attention when I speak to you. Understood?”   
That got his attention. He looked up at her with his soft green eyes and nodded.   
She smirked.   
“Good. I want you in my cabin in two hours.”   
She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t need one. When she turned around the noise from his pen started again.

 

“So, Julius”, the host said, “who do you think will be have the best chances of winning this year, now that we’ve seen the competition?”  
“Well, Marcus”, Julius said with a wide smile, “I think this year might be the most unpredictable yet!”  
The woman on Julius’ arm agreed enthusiastically.   
“And why do you say that, Julius?”  
“Well, Marcus, this year will have very high stakes when it comes to alliances, for one. The old district alliances will be gone, and replaced with blood ties. It just remains to be seen how the blood ties will translate into blood sport.”  
“Well said, Julius!” the woman chimed in.   
“But Julius, if you had to bet on one person, who would it be?”  
“Well, Marcus, I would probably bet on the person with the best combination of personal strength, and strong allies. District 5 has a team of four strong tributes, and they have the highest total projected score so far. My money, if I could bet, would be on the eldest son, Gustav.”   
“Thank you, Julius,” he said.  
Julius bowed in reply.   
“Now, Regina, I’ve been told you have the scoop on the designers chosen to represent the districts. What do you think their plans will be?”   
Instead of letting her answer, Marcus turned to the camera and showed off a glittering smile.   
“Stay tuned after this break, and you’ll find out everything about what the most fabulous, festive, and fierce fashion fiends will have fixed for you fine folks!”

 

Peeta didn’t regret his decision to come alone. If Haymitch stayed behind, it meant one more safe house for Posy.   
The officials thought she had died in the fire that took the Hawthorne family home. As far as they knew, that casket really did contain the charred remains that Mrs. Everdeen had identified as their daughter.  
But they might find out that she was still alive. And when they did, her hiding place would be the only thing between her and being sent into the arena with her brothers. Moving her between houses would make it less likely that anyone would catch on that a child was hiding right under their noses. At least, that was the theory.  
So even if the pills he was given were the only thing keeping him awake for the second night in a row as he wheedled with sponsors and planned their strategies, it was all worth it for her sake.   
Having something true to hold on to made the lies easier.

 

“Ooooh, you’re in trouble now!” said a sing-song voice behind him as his designs went up in smoke for the third time.   
“Shut up”, he replied.   
The woman at the station behind him just laughed at his glares. She was working on a little green hat for some kid. What did she know about the art of making the complex technical thingies he was busying himself with? When he was done, the tiny children from District 3 would look like bundles of sparking wires, if only he could…  
The woman laughed again as his attempts at faking fire became all too real.

 

President Snow leaned back in his chair, hands folded in front of his face. The conference room was filled to the brim. Politicians, game makers, news anchors, and district representatives. All had come from across the nation as soon as he had beckoned.   
“So”, he said quietly. The ones at the back had to lean in to hear him. “I expect you all to have gathered enough information by now. You’ve had a day.”   
He gestured at an orange man with a face like a pug.   
“Speak.”   
The man spread the documents in his hands on the table, taking care to turn them in Snow’s direction.   
“Sir, uh, District 3 is having issues. There has been a demonstration outside of a school, ch-children are leaving classes along with teachers and parents are joining up instead of working at the factories. S-so far, two percent of the working population is thought to have joined.”  
“And what are you doing to prevent this?”   
It wasn’t surprising. The youngest tributes this year were from District 3, which made it all the more important to stop this before they got killed.   
“We have pulled food rations for anyone not at their workstations, sir. And Mayor Spark has assured us that the current force of peacekeepers will be able to contain the problem if they are authorized to use lethal force.”  
“And can Mayor Spark be trusted?” said Snow.  
The pug-faced man looked unsure. Trying hard to choose the right answer, he spoke slowly.  
“I’m not sure, sir.”  
President Snows raised his eyebrows.  
“No, sir. It’s possible she can’t be. One of her daughters has been involved in the protest, and the tributes were the offspring of her second cousin.”  
“And why has she been allowed to stay in office?” president Snow said impatiently. “She will be removed in two hours, or you will be. Go on.”  
“D-District 1, 2, 4 and 5 are all calm. There was one uh, unrelated incident regarding stolen fruit in District 6. 7, 8, 9 and 10 have had an uneventful day. There have been unconfirmed reports of a double suicide from District 11 related to the reaping, but we are working on damage control. Officially, the couple had a, uhm”, he sorted through the papers, “automobile-related accident.”   
“And what of District 12?” said Snow impatiently.   
“The, uh, situation there is uhm… Well, it’s a bit unclear. There were reports of rebellious activity, b-but Mayor Undersee assures us that that the, uh, situation is u-under control. Sir.”   
“And is Mayor Undersee trustworthy?”  
The orange man froze. His eyes darted around the room, down into his papers, to the president’s face.   
“I, uh… I don’t know, Sir. I think so? I don’t know.”  
The president pulled his thick red lips into a sneer.  
“You don’t seem to know very much.”   
“No, no sir, I know. I know he is trustworthy.”  
“Good!” said Snow, spreading his hand in a gesture of false warmth.  
“Then you will, of course, take full responsibility if he is shown to be otherwise.”   
The man’s face fell. He nodded dejectedly and withdrew to the back of the room.   
“Next!”

 

Mrs. Everdeen sat down on her bed quietly, to avoid wakening Prim. Her youngest daughter had slept in her bed ever since last year’s reaping, leaving the bed she used to share with Katniss empty.  
It was almost midnight, and she was exhausted. It was a good thing Peeta shared his winnings with her and Prim, because she doubted her own ability to work in the coming days. Anything requiring more exertion than sleeping seemed like an impossibility.   
The activity of the past few days had given her enough adrenaline to keep her going longer than usual. She had kept herself busy, which had allowed unpleasant thoughts and memories to be kept at bay for a short while. The relief had been welcome, but it made the return of the silence and emptiness all the more unbearable.  
As her responsibility disappeared, so did her strength.  
But she would have to take in at least a few patients. The whole point of tonight’s excursion was to allow her to give an impression of normalcy in the next few days, before the torch passed to her again.   
She shed the many layers of clothes that had protected her from peering eyes in the night. Being recognized on her way to Haymitch’s house could be disastrous.   
In the best case scenario, someone might think they were lovers, which would be a suitable cover for their actual activity. But if anyone understood what, or who, was really hidden under her bulky robes, all would be lost.   
It was a good thing the girl was so skinny. She could fit underneath the long raincoat she had used when caring for bleeding patients while she was pregnant. Good thing she had saved it.  
Despite how tired she felt, the morning light had already started to creep into the room before she finally fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Finnick Odair had mentored the male tribute of district 4 every year since his own victory. There wasn’t one this year. Two twin girls were the unhappy pair, but Finnick had volunteered anyway.   
Julia could never understand how he could keep caring. She herself had stopped bothering with more than entertaining the audience after watching her first few tributes slaughtered. But not Finnick. As she was having a late-night cup of coffee, he was watching the reaping, taking notes for every tribute. She set down her cup next to him, and leaned over his shoulder.   
“Jewel, aged eighteen, district one,” she read aloud. He ignored her. His pen made a chart of the districts. Only one from district one, but three from two. Three from twelve, and an incredible six tributes from eleven.   
“Seems like that girl from one will be trouble. The commenters seem to like her, and the sponsors will follow suit.”  
He put a large X next to the names of several tributes, and circled the others. His eyes flitted between the screen and the paper as he rewound and skipped ahead between the various districts. He didn’t even look at her when her hand started stroking his shoulder. Annoyed, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked it backwards, forcing him to look at her.   
“If you want your tributes to have even the slightest hint of a chance, you will pay attention when I speak to you. Understood?”   
That got his attention. He looked up at her with his soft green eyes and nodded.   
She smirked.   
“Good. I want you in my cabin in two hours.”   
She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t need one. When she turned around the noise from his pen started again.

 

“So, Julius”, the host said, “who do you think will be have the best chances of winning this year, now that we’ve seen the competition?”  
“Well, Marcus”, Julius said with a wide smile, “I think this year might be the most unpredictable yet!”  
The woman on Julius’ arm agreed enthusiastically.   
“And why do you say that, Julius?”  
“Well, Marcus, this year will have very high stakes when it comes to alliances, for one. The old district alliances will be gone, and replaced with blood ties. It just remains to be seen how the blood ties will translate into blood sport.”  
“Well said, Julius!” the woman chimed in.   
“But Julius, if you had to bet on one person, who would it be?”  
“Well, Marcus, I would probably bet on the person with the best combination of personal strength, and strong allies. District 5 has a team of four strong tributes, and they have the highest total projected score so far. My money, if I could bet, would be on the eldest son, Gustav.”   
“Thank you, Julius,” he said.  
Julius bowed in reply.   
“Now, Regina, I’ve been told you have the scoop on the designers chosen to represent the districts. What do you think their plans will be?”   
Instead of letting her answer, Marcus turned to the camera and showed off a glittering smile.   
“Stay tuned after this break, and you’ll find out everything about what the most fabulous, festive, and fierce fashion fiends will have fixed for you fine folks!”

 

Peeta didn’t regret his decision to come alone. If Haymitch stayed behind, it meant one more safe house for Posy.   
The officials thought she had died in the fire that took the Hawthorne family home. As far as they knew, that casket really did contain the charred remains that Mrs. Everdeen had identified as their daughter.  
But they might find out that she was still alive. And when they did, her hiding place would be the only thing between her and being sent into the arena with her brothers. Moving her between houses would make it less likely that anyone would catch on that a child was hiding right under their noses. At least, that was the theory.  
So even if the pills he was given were the only thing keeping him awake for the second night in a row as he wheedled with sponsors and planned their strategies, it was all worth it for her sake.   
Having something true to hold on to made the lies easier.

 

“Ooooh, you’re in trouble now!” said a sing-song voice behind him as his designs went up in smoke for the third time.   
“Shut up”, he replied.   
The woman at the station behind him just laughed at his glares. She was working on a little green hat for some kid. What did she know about the art of making the complex technical thingies he was busying himself with? When he was done, the tiny children from District 3 would look like bundles of sparking wires, if only he could…  
The woman laughed again as his attempts at faking fire became all too real.

 

President Snow leaned back in his chair, hands folded in front of his face. The conference room was filled to the brim. Politicians, game makers, news anchors, and district representatives. All had come from across the nation as soon as he had beckoned.   
“So”, he said quietly. The ones at the back had to lean in to hear him. “I expect you all to have gathered enough information by now. You’ve had a day.”   
He gestured at an orange man with a face like a pug.   
“Speak.”   
The man spread the documents in his hands on the table, taking care to turn them in Snow’s direction.   
“Sir, uh, District 3 is having issues. There has been a demonstration outside of a school, ch-children are leaving classes along with teachers and parents are joining up instead of working at the factories. S-so far, two percent of the working population is thought to have joined.”  
“And what are you doing to prevent this?”   
It wasn’t surprising. The youngest tributes this year were from District 3, which made it all the more important to stop this before they got killed.   
“We have pulled food rations for anyone not at their workstations, sir. And Mayor Spark has assured us that the current force of peacekeepers will be able to contain the problem if they are authorized to use lethal force.”  
“And can Mayor Spark be trusted?” said Snow.  
The pug-faced man looked unsure. Trying hard to choose the right answer, he spoke slowly.  
“I’m not sure, sir.”  
President Snows raised his eyebrows.  
“No, sir. It’s possible she can’t be. One of her daughters has been involved in the protest, and the tributes were the offspring of her second cousin.”  
“And why has she been allowed to stay in office?” president Snow said impatiently. “She will be removed in two hours, or you will be. Go on.”  
“D-District 1, 2, 4 and 5 are all calm. There was one uh, unrelated incident regarding stolen fruit in District 6. 7, 8, 9 and 10 have had an uneventful day. There have been unconfirmed reports of a double suicide from District 11 related to the reaping, but we are working on damage control. Officially, the couple had a, uhm”, he sorted through the papers, “automobile-related accident.”   
“And what of District 12?” said Snow impatiently.   
“The, uh, situation there is uhm… Well, it’s a bit unclear. There were reports of rebellious activity, b-but Mayor Undersee assures us that that the, uh, situation is u-under control. Sir.”   
“And is Mayor Undersee trustworthy?”  
The orange man froze. His eyes darted around the room, down into his papers, to the president’s face.   
“I, uh… I don’t know, Sir. I think so? I don’t know.”  
The president pulled his thick red lips into a sneer.  
“You don’t seem to know very much.”   
“No, no sir, I know. I know he is trustworthy.”  
“Good!” said Snow, spreading his hand in a gesture of false warmth.  
“Then you will, of course, take full responsibility if he is shown to be otherwise.”   
The man’s face fell. He nodded dejectedly and withdrew to the back of the room.   
“Next!”

 

Mrs. Everdeen sat down on her bed quietly, to avoid wakening Prim. Her youngest daughter had slept in her bed ever since last year’s reaping, leaving the bed she used to share with Katniss empty.  
It was almost midnight, and she was exhausted. It was a good thing Peeta shared his winnings with her and Prim, because she doubted her own ability to work in the coming days. Anything requiring more exertion than sleeping seemed like an impossibility.   
The activity of the past few days had given her enough adrenaline to keep her going longer than usual. She had kept herself busy, which had allowed unpleasant thoughts and memories to be kept at bay for a short while. The relief had been welcome, but it made the return of the silence and emptiness all the more unbearable.  
As her responsibility disappeared, so did her strength.  
But she would have to take in at least a few patients. The whole point of tonight’s excursion was to allow her to give an impression of normalcy in the next few days, before the torch passed to her again.   
She shed the many layers of clothes that had protected her from peering eyes in the night. Being recognized on her way to Haymitch’s house could be disastrous.   
In the best case scenario, someone might think they were lovers, which would be a suitable cover for their actual activity. But if anyone understood what, or who, was really hidden under her bulky robes, all would be lost.   
It was a good thing the girl was so skinny. She could fit underneath the long raincoat she had used when caring for bleeding patients while she was pregnant. Good thing she had saved it.  
Despite how tired she felt, the morning light had already started to creep into the room before she finally fell asleep.


End file.
